


An oath I'll never break

by sansaswildlinglover



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Future Fic, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-24 03:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16631864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansaswildlinglover/pseuds/sansaswildlinglover
Summary: Jon realizes how lucky he is Sansa is about to become his wifeWritten for Jonsa Drabbles Day 3 - Snowflakes





	An oath I'll never break

With night descending on the castle, Jon finds himself in Sansa's solar again. He's come to appreciate the quiet, easy companionship they've built during these evenings, and Sansa's sweet smiles and soft gazes give him hope she feels the same way about it.

They talk about the keep, their people, and their duty, but they also share the small joys and grievances of everyday life. There's still a lot they don't know about each other's hearts and pasts, but they'll have time for all of that later.

There's a lull in their conversaton, and while he doesn't mind the comfortable silence between them, he wants an excuse to keep looking at her, and to listen to her voice. She's been busy with needlework these last few nights, her needle restless in her hand until the light has grown to dim for her to see what she's doing.

There's a swath of soft grey wool in her lap, onto which she's embroidering a pattern of delicate white flowers. 

"Is that your maiden cloak?" he asks her.

She straightens her back to inform him: "I've alread finished my maiden cloak, but you can't see it! It's ill luck!" She smooths out the fabric in her lap, spreading it out so he can see it better. She's sewn an appliqué depicting Ghost's head onto the centre of the cloak, and he can see that the flowers are actually snowflakes.

"This," she clarifies, "is your cloak."

"I thought mine was supposed to be red and black silk?" he scoffs, unable to keep vexation from seeping into his voice. 

"Oh, I know," she tells him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "This is the inside of the cloak." She leans in closely, biting her lip, and whispers conspiratorially: "It can be our little secret."

She knows how conflicted he still is about accepting his true heritage, that he'll always prefer to be Jon Snow instead of Jaehaerys Targaryen, but he never could have guessed she might be aware of his deepest fear, that she's only agreed to wed him because he's a secret prince now.

Now she's choosing to have him cloak her in snowflakes, three-headed dragons be damned, and his heart swells as it sinks in she's telling him she's chosen him.

He meets her eyes, and there he can see the same tenderness her careful fingers are proclaiming, just for him. It makes his throat tighten in a way no spoken declaration of love ever could.

"Do you like it?" she asks, her voice thick with hopeful apprehension.

"Aye," he whispers roughly. "I do."

He doesn't know what to say or do to make her understand what this means to him, but in this moment, he decides to swear his most solemn and heartfelt vow. He's going to do everything in his power to make her the happiest wife in the seven kingdoms if it's the last thing he'll ever do.

 


End file.
